


Perfect IV: Making It Perfect

by Tayla36



Series: Perfect [4]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-09-02
Updated: 2002-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:11:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayla36/pseuds/Tayla36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is home on a Friday night and Jim wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect IV: Making It Perfect

## Perfect IV: Making It Perfect

by Tayla

Author's website:  <http://tayla36.livejournal.com/>

Disclaimer: I don't own them, wish I did, but I don't. I just take them out and play with them every once in a while.

I got lots of notes from people that wanted me to *fix* things between Jim and Blair. Well here it is.

This story is a sequel to: Perfect III: Far From Perfect 

* * *

The silence between us was thick with tension. That was unusual. Even though there were things unsaid between us, we usually managed to enjoy our evenings together. But this was different. It was Friday night and Blair was home. 

"Aren't you going out tonight?" 

He was lounging on the sofa in his oldest sweats, flipping through channels looking for a game or a movie. Anything but one of those stupid reality TV programs. 

"Gee Jim, does it look like I'm dressed to go out?" 

"But it's Friday night. You usually go out on Friday night." 

He ignored me and continued flipping. 

I nervously bit my lip. I knew I was running the risk of pissing him off. But I had to know. 

"This is the third week in a row you've stayed home." 

Blair stopped flipping. Slowly he turned his head and glared at me. Yep, I pissed him off. For a moment I think he's going to yell, or throw something. But he just turns away and clenches his jaw. 

He never used to do that. The jaw clenching thing. He got that from me. 

He goes back to flipping the channels. He finally finds a movie. It's some bloody, terrorist, martial arts movie and I'm surprised that this is what he picked. A year ago he wouldn't have watched this. Something else he got from me. 

He must have thought a little about what I said because the anger seemed to drain out of him. "Hey man, I could clear out for the night. I mean, if you have plans or something." He said without meeting my eye. 

"No, no," I reassure him. "I don't have any plans. I was just wondering why you didn't." 

"That's just the way it goes sometimes, man." 

He went back to watching TV. I pretended to. I was actually watching him. I had become quite proficient at watching him. I had followed him one Friday, to see where he went, who he was seeing. 

Spying on him. 

God I had sunk so low. Slinking around in the shadows, spying on my partner and his date. 

His lover. 

It could have been me. We danced around it for more than three years. Then he had finally asked. In the hospital, after he had died because of me. I had brought him back. 

And he had asked. 

I couldn't kid myself into thinking that I didn't know what he meant. I knew exactly what he was asking. He wanted to complete the bond. 

And I wasn't ready. I was afraid. The one person in my life that I could trust above all others. No matter how many times I treated him like shit, he was still here. Even after I had rejected his offer, he got up off his deathbed and followed me to Sierra Verde. After I refused a physical relationship with him, he watched while I almost fucked the woman who had killed him. And still he didn't leave. 

I didn't listen when he tried to tell me about Brad Ventriss. And because I didn't take him seriously, he got the crap beat out of him. 

And then the dissertation fiasco. Naomi set a bomb off in our faces. He just calmly trashed his career. To protect me. So I could have a normal life. 

Normal. Hah. 

I was never normal. I never had a real life. Not until Blair. He taught me how to be human. I wasn't a real person until he came into my life. And if I'm not careful I'm gonna lose him. 

Maybe it's not too late. He hasn't been out in three weeks. Maybe Rafe is out of the picture. Maybe I can fix it. 

His eyes are still glued to the screen, but I can't imagine he's really interested in the movie. I wonder what he's thinking about. Is he thinking about Rafe? I wonder what happened? 

"Did he hurt you?" I ask quietly. 

"What?" 

"Rafe. Did he hurt you?" 

He gives a short sharp bark of laughter. "I not even going to ask how you knew." 

"Scent." 

"I should have figured that. I'm puzzled as to why you care." 

That hurt a little. I never meant to give the impression that I didn't care. I just wasn't ready. 

"Blair if he hurt you I'll . . . " 

"You'll what? Go kick his ass for me? Trust me, Jim. I don't need a big brother." I pissed him off again. God, he's sexy when his eyes flash like that. 

He continued, "Besides, you've got it backward. I hurt him." 

"You? I find that hard to believe." 

"Yeah well, I didn't mean to. I tried to warn him that I couldn't love him. But he didn't listen." 

This is surreal. I'm talking to Blair about love and sex. We never do that. It suddenly feels like there's not enough air in the room. I feel lightheaded, and I find myself asking, almost in a whisper, "Why couldn't you love him." 

//Coward! Sniveling coward. Why can't I say it first? Why am I trying to make him say if first. // 

Well he doesn't. He doesn't say it. He just glares at me from the other end of the sofa, getting angry again. 

Well good for him. It's about time he stopped taking my shit. 

"I'm sorry." I say, but I can't quite look him in the eye. 

That brings him up short, and he gets this adorable little wrinkle on his forehead as he puzzles over what I just said. 

"Sorry I couldn't love him? Sorry I hurt him? Sorry you asked?" 

"Any of it, all of it. None of it." 

"Well thanks, Jim. That really clears it up." I love his sarcasm. 

//Do it Ellison. Get off your ass and do it. // 

"Okay. I'm sorry that you think you hurt him because I know that makes you feel bad. But I'm not sorry you're not seeing him anymore, and I'm not sorry you don't love him." 

Now he's puzzled again. God I really love that little wrinkle. "You're not sorry I don't love him? Why?" 

//Do it, Ellison. This is your big chance. Do It, DO IT! **DO IT NOW!//**

"Why Jim? Am I that unlovable?" he asks in a small sad voice. 

Oh god. 

"No, Blair. You are the most lovable person in the world." 

"Man, don't make fun of me. That is so not cool." 

"I'm not making fun." I get up from my end of the sofa, and he's eyeing me warily. I walk over to him and then his eyes go wide in surprise as I go to my knees in front of him. Then I can't look at him anymore, so I stare at my hands, which are resting on his knees. 

"I'm sorry I'm such an ass. I'm sorry that I'm not good at expressing myself. I'm sorry for every little thing that I ever did to hurt you. I'm sorry I'm such a coward." 

I hear him gasp then, and he leans forward. I feel his fingertips ghost down the side my face. "Oh Jim. You're not a coward." 

"Yes I am. You were ready, I wasn't." 

"Do you know what you're talking about, Jim? I mean really know?" 

"Yes, I know. After the fountain. I saw the same thing you did. I knew exactly what it meant. You were ready for it, and I chickened out. I told you I wasn't ready to take that trip with you." 

He was very still, and barely breathing. "Are you ready now, Jim?" he asked in a whisper. 

"Am I too late?" I answer, also whispering. 

"It's never too late. As long as we're both still here." 

I lean forward and rest my head on his knees. He runs his hand over my close cropped hair and I could feel each strand of hair spring back into place after his hand had passed. I could feel his pulse beating in the big artery in his leg through the thin skin of my forehead. I could also hear his heart beating in his chest. It made and interesting echo with the pulse beat. The beat was a little different than usual, a little fast. I could hear his breath whooshing in and out of his lungs. Deep, even breaths, like yoga breaths, like he's trying to stay calm. 

I just knelt there for a while. I pressed harder against his leg and I could feel his pulse all along the side of my face. We were frozen in that eternal timeless moment, the only movement was Blair's hand stroking my hair, petting me. We hadn't touched this intimately in a long time. He had only been out of the Academy for a few weeks, and he touched me at work, but only to ground me when I was actively using my senses, so his hand in my hair felt like heaven, felt like coming home. 

I felt more at peace in that moment than I had in a year, since before the thing with Alex. 

Eventually I became aware of another sensation. Scent. The first thing my nose noticed was the scent of laundry detergent and fabric softener. Not surprising since my face was pressed into Blair's fleece covered leg. But there was another scent. Subtle. Something I almost recognized, but not quite. Musky. 

"You didn't answer my question, Jim. Are you ready?" 

The musky smell. The smell of Blair's arousal. The way he smells after he's been with Rafe, but not quite. Because this time it's just him. 

He wants me. 

He's trying to stay calm because I haven't answered him yet, and he's afraid I'll reject him again like I did after the fountain. 

I'm stunned because I never thought that I would have another chance. I counted myself lucky that he still consented to be in the same room with me, that he was still willing to be my partner. 

Now I know he still wants me. And it dawns on me that Rafe was just a substitute for what he thought he couldn't have. 

But he can have me. I don't know why he still wants me, but he can have me all he wants, and I look up at him and he must see it in my eyes because he's leaning forward and his hands are on my face. He's pushing me back a little and he slides forward off the sofa kneeling astride my hips and he's got me pinned against the coffee table. 

He brings his mouth down on mine and then I can taste. I can finally taste him, fully. And it's overwhelming because that's the only thing that has been missing over the past four years. The taste of him. The only time I got a taste of him was at the fountain and he was dead and now he's not. He's alive and warm and kissing me and the taste gets stronger when he thrusts his tongue into my mouth. 

I start to zone, but he's there, he's right there, always the Guide, and he breaks the kiss and brings me back from the edge with soft words and warm hands on my face. 

One more time he asks. "Are you ready?" 

"Yes . . . yes Blair, god yes." And I bury my hands in that wild mane of hair and close my eyes and pull him down for another kiss and it's hard and desperate, like I'm trying to memorize what he tastes like in case I don't get another chance. 

And damned if he doesn't know that, too. He knows just what I'm thinking and he gentles me and breaks the kiss. I whimper at the loss of contact and try to find his mouth again, but he pulls back. 

"'Jim, look at me." 

I don't want to, I just want to breathe him and taste him and smell him. 

"Jim. Open your eyes." 

He's looking at me, his eyes an impossible shade of liquid blue. And he proves to me once again that he is far braver than I will ever be. He does say it first. 

"I love you, Jim. I always have. That's the reason I couldn't love Rafe, why I could never love anyone I ever slept with. Even before I knew you, I was waiting for you." 

Then we're kissing again and in between kisses, I'm babbling "love you, love you" over and over. I'm stroking his hair and his back and his legs and anything I can touch, still babbling and kissing, and I don't realize I'm crying until he wipes my tears away. 

He stand and helps me too my feet. The old leg wound doesn't appreciate the cramped position I've been sitting in for last twenty minutes and I stumble. But he's right there to catch me. He always has been. He takes my hand and leads me to his room, to his bed. I've been afraid to take this step for four years, but now that I'm here, it seems so simple, so easy, just let Blair guide me. 

"Blair . . ." 

"Yes, love?" 

"You know I've never done this before." 

"That's okay Jim. I'll make it good for you." 

"I know. It will be perfect." 

* * *

End Perfect IV: Making It Perfect by Tayla: tayla36@aol.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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